Nowhere Warm
by chokolaj
Summary: Shep’s shot, slowly bleeding out in the snow, with only his radio to keep him connected to those he cares about most.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Nowhere Warm

Author: chokolaj

Summary: Shep's shot, slowly bleeding out in the snow, with only his radio to keep him connected to those he cares about most.

No pairings, just pure angst & whumpage for Shep 

Word Count: 3,330

A/N: Secret Santa Challenge #6 written for Katstale – hope you like it. Happy Holidays! Snark isn't something that I feel I can write easily, so I hope I did well enough.

Prompt: …Shep-hurt to be physical (injured or sick, doesn't matter which). Mental

hurt/whumping is okay, as long as the physical is more prominent than the mental, please… I'd like something mostly serious, but touches of humor would be great--especially the snark. LOTS of the snark!...

Disclaimer: No beta so all mistakes are mine. Any medical or other technicalities may or may not be accurate: this is fiction and solely intended for your entertainment.

--//--

The first snowflake landed on his nose. The second landed on his eyelash melting slowly into his eye. The flakes were cold and feathery against his paling skin. The first snowfall of the winter season had always captivated him as a child. The swirling white crystals but a whisper upon the winter gale, falling in a mesmerizing glitter.

He was numb. Couldn't really feel anything physically or emotionally. Which was a good thing, considering his current state.

The bastards had shot him: four times, to be exact. Four rounds of gunfire echoing against the mountains surrounding him were the only clue that something had gone horribly wrong. He had fallen to the hardened blanket of snow beneath him. He vaguely realized at that moment that he had been hit.

Carson was going to be irate. _If_ he made it out of this current predicament, that is.

"Sheppard, you still there?" The tinny voice carried over the radio still snug in his ear.

Sheppard coughed, feeling an all too uncomfortable twinge and tasting metal. He smiled briefly before answering.

"Ah, sure, Rodney. As you may remember, I've got four bullets _in my back. _I'm not moving anytime soon." Sheppard drawled.

An impatient sigh carried over the radio.

"Sorry 'bout that colonel." Beckett huffed into his ear. They were moving as fast as they could through knee-high snow to reach him. "How're ye holdin' up?"

Sheppard experimentally flexed his fingers on each hand, both of which lay tucked close to his body on either side. The fingers were reddened and swollen and barely shifted. He imagined them moving but that was as far as they actually went. He grimaced more from disappointment than pain.

"Can't move 'em anymore." Over the last hour, Carson had been periodically checking on Sheppard's reflexes to judge whether frostbite was setting in. Sheppard feared the man was breaking it to him gradually that paralysis was the real culprit.

Sheppard grunted as another twinge erupted from somewhere around his mid-back. He took in a large gulp of air, feeling the flutter of snowflakes accompanying the cool air rushing into his lungs. His eyelashes were sparkling with the white stuff by now, as were the spikes of his dark hair.

"Just…hang in there, all right?" Rodney's voice carried a hint of fear that Sheppard didn't like. He could sense it in all their voices as time ticked by. The longer it took for them to reach him, the less chances he had of living. Sheppard refused to accept those odds, however. He was a positive person, always had been. It absolutely riled McKay up and that made him love the trait all the more.

"I'm hanging, McKay. In fact, I'm chilling." Sheppard tried to sound calm and collected but underneath that façade, he was shaking like a leaf.

"Oh hardee-har har, colonel." Came the sarcastic reply. Sheppard imagined the scientist rolling his eyes.

"Colonel, is there anything you can describe of your location that would be of help to us?" Teyla interrupted their banter.

Of all the voices that had spoken to him since he had awoken an hour ago, Teyla's was the one that unsettled him most. With her, one could always judge just how serious the situation was. It was in her voice. Soothing, controlled, and confident was what was normal. But he hadn't heard any of that since he had informed them of his precarious situation. He could only hear the waver in her voice, as if she were already shedding the tears that would fall upon his grave. When someone of such grace and fortitude cracked in situations like this, it wasn't a good sign.

They weren't expecting him to last long out here. And they were frustrated, too, given the howl of rage Ronon had emitted when they realized that they had to cross a frozen ravine and then climb the lower ridge of a mountain to reach Sheppard. A blizzard was rolling in over the peaks of the majestic mountains towering above them. Flying a Jumper in this kind of environment was suicide.

"I can't really see much, from my position." Sheppard answered Teyla.

There were mountains to his left and there were mountains to his right. Actually, there were pretty much mountains in every damned direction. The expansive flat field of white he was currently sprawled out on was most likely a frozen lake nestled between the rocky ridges.

"How's yer breathin', son?" Carson's voice was breathy, as if he were exerting a lot of energy. Which made sense considering the team was currently climbing the face of a mountain, with swirling snow and gusting winds hampering their progress.

There was a rattle every time he inhaled accompanied by an unpleasant pressure. As long as he didn't breathe too deeply, he was fine.

"Nothing to report, doc."

"Ach! I highly doubt that you bugger. Tell me the truth now. Are you coughing up anything? How's your chest feelin'? And before you give us that 'I'm fine' nonsense, I want the truth son."

Sheppard allowed a long pause after that barrage of questioning. In truth, he knew his time was running out. But he didn't want his team to know that. He would protect them to his last dying breath if he had to even if it meant a little fibbing.

"Colonel?" There was a hint of worry in the doctor's voice as he prompted a response.

"Carson, I'm a fricken' Popsicle, I _feel_ _cold_." Sheppard snarled.

When he avoided questions, his team knew shit had hit the fan. And Sheppard sensed as much by the Carson's response.

"We'll be there soon, son. Just keep talkin'."

As soon as the good doctor finished, Sheppard realized his eyelids were now drooping. Lethargy swept over his numbing body and he found himself quickly slipping into darkness.

"Sheppard?!" Ronon's voice was urgent and fresh in his foggy mind.

Sensation tingled back into his freezing body and Sheppard took a moment to take stock of his current situation. He had fallen asleep. For how long, he didn't know but by the urgency of the voices in his ear, it was long enough to send his team into a frenzy of despair.

"Here." He croaked. When did his voice get so rough?

"Thank god! Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again!" Rodney voice barked into his ear. Flinching, Sheppard tried to shift his limbs but to no avail. He really was a frozen Popsicle. Well, at least he wasn't feeling any pain. Though, considering where he had been shot that probably wasn't a good thing.

"M'srry." He slurred.

"It's fine. You're fine." Rodney quickly buried his anger in regret.

"Hey Rodney." Sheppard rasped quietly. The snowflakes were beginning to accumulate on him. Would his team have to dig him out of a snowdrift?

"Yes?"

"Up for a game of prime not prime?"

There was a pause where Sheppard could easily imagine Rodney rolling his eyes, Carson shaking his head, and Teyla and Ronon exchanging amused expressions.

"What is it with you and that annoying stupid little game?!" Rodney's voice was edging on hysterical. Sheppard simply smiled.

"Please, just…humor me. I'm…bored." Not much to do when one was caught in a snowstorm bleeding to death.

"Well, next time you feel like being kidnapped by the locals and shot, bring a board game." Rodney snapped.

There was the sound of rustling and Sheppard had the distinct impression that someone was covering an earpiece to give Rodney a piece of his or her mind.

"9000007." Came the succinct prompt.

Sheppard released a breath and found it was rather difficult to draw in the next. The cold air mixed with fluffy little flakes entered his overworked lungs and he began to cough. Hard. Panic flared within as he struggled to inhale as the need to cough became overpowering. Black fuzzy dots began to pervade his vision.

"Sheppard? John? Can you hear me?" Teyla's voice carried a tone of fear barely contained.

The coughing subsided, leaving his throat sore and raw. Sheppard drew in air through little successive gasps. His lungs burned. The trickle of something warm ran from the corner of his mouth and down the side of his cheek. It dripped to the snow beneath him. Sheppard grimaced. There was snow of a different color beneath his freezing body. He could just begin to catch sight of the outer rim from the corner of his eye. He steadfastly chose to ignore it and answered the nervous hails coming to him over the radio in his ear.

"F...fine…I…I'm fine." He replied breathlessly.

"Good old Captain Kirk could have had his limbs cut off but would he admit to injury? No. Of course not. You are not _fine_ Sheppard. And we _are_ going to get to you in time, you hear me? If you so much as _think_ of dying on us I will hunt down your spirit and damn you to eternal…well I can't think of anything as of yet but it will _not _be pleasant. And there will be _no_ space bimbos involved." Rodney ranted.

Breathing sucked sometimes. And so did dealing with a frantic genius that couldn't fix something out of his hands.

"Rodney. Just shut up. I'm not going anywhere, got it? I have the best goddamn team in two galaxies coming for me and not even a little bit of bad weather is going to slow you down, now is it?" Sheppard managed to say in a wavering voice before another bout of coughing disrupted him from hearing any kind of response.

"Slow and easy, colonel, don't try to take deep breaths, son. Yer lungs can't handle the cold right now." Beckett's soothing voice came to him once he recovered.

The snow was beginning to drift against his body, of which had stopped shivering some time ago. The only tell of time for him was the snow. He dared not ask his team, for he knew it was their curse as they struggled to reach him. The comforting shroud of sleep had begun to beckon him and he wondered why he wasn't more alarmed by the sudden onset of lethargy. Hypothermia, he surmised. Perfect. Though really, it wasn't such a bad way to go.

"We must be getting closer." Teyla's hopeful voice interrupted his reverie.

"How can you tell? The snow is really starting to blow and before we know it, we're going to have a whiteout situation and we'll be of absolute no use to Sheppard." Rodney bickered.

"Life signs detector." Ronon grunted. The man had so little to say yet said everything in just as many words.

"Oh. Right." Came another succinct reply from the scientist.

Sheppard couldn't help it. He laughed.

"Crap, now he's delirious."

"Ach, Rodney. He can hear ye, ye know. Don't mind him, colonel. You'll be sippin' some nice hot soup in me infirmary before ye know it."

Sheppard could only laugh some more. He was feeling rather giddy. The snowflakes falling in rapid succession from the darkening canvas above mesmerized him. He would have reached up to touch them if he could have moved his arms. A brief gust of wind whipped ice crystals across his freezing cheeks, the bitter cold stinging and biting.

"I state that we are closer because we are now traveling downhill. If it were not growing dark and there were not a blizzard, I am sure we would be able to see the colonel from our vantage point." Teyla continued on her tangent.

"She's right." Ronon stated simply.

"Yes, well, at least we know he's still awake…maybe not _lucid_, but awake." Rodney surmised.

"There's the positive Rodney we all know and love." Beckett stole the words right of Sheppard's mind for it was what he had been thinking once the laughter stopped.

"Sheppard?" Ronon's voice was tight, on guard. Something had alarmed him.

"Y…yeah, big guy?" Sheppard's mouth was dry and he desperately wished for the tallest glass of water. Random snowflakes falling on the tongue just didn't suffice.

"Did you say these locals were cave dwellers?"

"Ah…." It was getting harder to think. "Yeah?"

"What is it, Ronon?" Teyla now sounded alert.

Sheppard could see in his mind all four of his friends on guard, weapons raised, eyes scanning desperately through the swirling white storm. When no response came from Ronon, Sheppard further imagined the Satedan nodding towards some threat. He could only hope that the threat had not seen them.

"Ach, it's just a dog." Came Beckett's exasperated voice moments later.

Muffled shouts and a sharp yelp followed by the rapid tat-tat of gunfire sparked alarm within Sheppard. Now more than ever he felt completely helpless. His teammates were risking their lives to reach him when they all knew he'd probably die before they did so.

"Wha…whazz goin' on?" His mouth was refusing to work now. It felt stiff and uncoordinated. His frustration was reaching a whole new level.

"Just a dog? Just a dog!" Rodney shrieked in exasperation a moment later. Sheppard could imagine the scientist with mouth open, eyes wide directed at one rather belittled doctor.

"Guyzzzz?" Sheppard urged an answer. The snowfall was beginning to pick up, as was the bitter wind whipping across his body. His heart pumped sluggishly as adrenalin borne of alertness struggled to travel through his veins.

"I killed it. Don't worry." Ronon supplied.

"Killed wha…?"

"The biggest freakin' wolf-like dinosaur…did you see its teeth? Son of a…. You see? You see why I'm a cat person? Jeez!" Rodney had yet to come off his heightened state of fright.

"'S too dangerous…turn…back." Sheppard managed to say. Was it getting darker?

"Do not worry, colonel. We are unharmed. The creature has been…eliminated." Teyla tried to soothe him. "The gunfire should have scared off any remaining threat. We will continue on to your position and you will be fine."

"Not…worth it." Sheppard replied through clenched teeth.

"Sheppard, don't give up." Ronon barked.

Blinking hard and rolling his head around, regret filled his face. He didn't want to give the order. His _final_ order. But life's a bitch, wouldn't you know?

"Turn back." His voice was low, swallowed in defeat and rough from weakness.

Silence followed and he was almost sure they hadn't heard him. Then Rodney spoke, his resolute voice wavering.

"No. No we won't. We're going to find you and…."

"Please." Sheppard rasped. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes but they probably would freeze upon his pale cheeks. His heart ached as he wished he could spare his team from the emotional pain they were experiencing. He wished he could take it all away and make things right again. Didn't they all when it came to hindsight?

"Rodney." Beckett sighed, his voice full of resignation. The doctor had known Sheppard's odds for survival were slim from the beginning. There wasn't much he could do for the pilot without proper medical equipment and there was simply no way to hail a Jumper in a blizzard. And to make matters worse, The Daedelus was currently in the Milky Way. The odds were dramatically against them getting to Sheppard in time.

"Perhaps we could…." Teyla's voice trailed off in despair.

"He's right." Ronon's tone was final, if a bit gravely.

"Just...go." Sheppard breathed out.

"John." Rodney addressed him in a way uncharacteristic of him, which was noted by all.

"Take care…of each…other, will…ya?" Talking was becoming torture for him, his mouth refusing to move and the air in his lungs burning with each inhalation and exhalation.

"Please don't give up." Teyla responded, her voice breaking. There were tears falling upon that face, Sheppard knew.

"Please, just…_please_." Sheppard begged, his voice failing him as the darkness swallowed him into a soothing embrace.

--//--

There was a consistent tap that was more pressure than feeling upon his right cheek. A gale of wind roared into his ears, the cold of ice and snow entering in one ear and across the exposed skin of his face barely felt.

A muffled noise followed the wake of the wind. Sheppard took note of the little feeling he had left in his body. Comfortably numb. He felt lethargic and happy enough to wallow in it for as long as forever. Yet the muffled noise and the discomfort of ice and snow blowing across him wouldn't allow it.

Slowly, his eyes opened. Snowflakes had accumulated upon his eyelashes. A dark sky with sparkling white lights smothered him from all around. The storm had cleared.

The pressure upon his cheek was still there and he shifted his eyes to the right. If he weren't so numb, he would've jumped in shock and surprise. It was Carson, with Teyla close behind him, both kneeling at his side, trying to get a response from him. He would have smiled but his lips refused to move. As crystal as the night sky had become, his hearing slowly followed suit.

"Colonel Sheppard, can you hear me?" Carson asked in his thick brogue, the volume growing as Sheppard's ears grew accustomed.

Sheppard observed the thick coat Carson wore with a fur lining around the hood settled upon the doctor's shoulders. The doctor was peering down at him with deep concern. Teyla's face mirrored Carson's.

"Is he awake?" Rodney's hopeful voice carried over the gusty wind. As the night had fallen, the winds had picked up. On one note, the winds had cleared the storm, but on another, they brought a deep chill that added a bite to the air. None of them would last long in this weather.

"D..ead?" Sheppard struggled to get his lips moving. Carson and Teyla glanced at one another before smiling with reassurance down at him.

"No, colonel, you are not dead. We are here and we are going to get you out of here." Teyla responded with a soft smile. Her cheeks were a rosy glow. Being the smallest of them all, it amazed Sheppard that she had not succumbed to the cold, much like him.

"R..scu?" Sheppard managed to mumble.

"They'll be here soon, colonel. Just hang in there." Carson replied with a smile of relief.

Sheppard shifted his gaze to his body. There was a thick blanket of snow upon it. In fact, most of it was freshly unsettled. It took him a moment to realize that his team must have added to the drift already accumulating upon his body. Snow was a great insulator, he remembered. Beyond this, he spied a blurry fire with two figures standing on either side. Rodney and Ronon.

Sheppard smiled as best as his frozen facial muscles would allow.

"The storm cleared just as you instructed us to retreat. Thank the ancestors, we were able to see you from the ridge and reach you before it was too late." Teyla explained. Her voice sounded wavy, as if she was moving close, then pulling away. Yet Sheppard knew it was his own failing hearing to blame.

"Damn it, Sheppard. You _had_ to get captured and shot on the _coldest_ damn planet we've ever encountered. You should be thanking us for saving your sorry ass, you know that?" Rodney's voice carried across the wind from nearby. Sheppard didn't have the energy to lift his head and visibly seek out the scientist.

"He's thankful." Ronon's deep voice came from not too far from Rodney's.

"I'm just reiterating the fact that he owes us all an astronomically huge bidding that encompasses our entire life spans."

There must have been a silent look passed among his teammates after that one because Rodney only sputtered and grumbled under his breath to spare their ears.

Warmth embraced him. Whether it was the presence of his team or hypothermia kicking up a notch, Sheppard did not care. Instead, he allowed himself to wallow in it. A thought surfaced in his hazy mind then and he smiled.

"Not…prime." The words dropped off in a whisper as he slipped into a deep sleep.

"What?" Carson asked, puzzled.

Rodney only smiled.

--fin—

A/N: OK, so the last two sentences aren't exactly Shep's POV. Oh, and that number – it's technically not a prime but some other kind of weird anomaly of a math thingy all of which I cannot possibly comprehend – I'm an artist damn it. That said, I have written a sort of aftermath to this but I have a little bit more to go on it (within the word count limit).


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for such lovely reviews everyone! Chocolate for all!! And on to the aftermath…

--//--

"I don't want to roll him just yet." Beckett announced to the med team as they settled Sheppard on the Jumper floor. "Our first priority is to get his body temp up – slowly. Too fast and we'll have even more to worry about. Once we get him back to Atlantis, then we can assess the wounds. From what I've been able to determine, there are no exit wounds."

"I'll have Dr. Biro prep the OR, sir." The pilot responded from the front.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Beckett replied hurriedly as he and the team worked on getting the Lt. Colonel stable.

Sheppard's team sat on the bench to either side of the action, looking on morosely. There was little they could do now: Sheppard's life was in Beckett's hands.

Beckett glanced up at them at that moment, as the med team took over for him.

"Look, I won't deny he's in a bad way. He's a strong lad. He made it this far."

"His lips are blue." Rodney stated this simple fact, his eyes cast upon the pilot. His hands were clenched to either side and he was shivering. Teyla laid a hand upon his knee but her expression was identical to his. Even Ronon looked uncharacteristically pale. They had all seen the stained red snow beneath the colonel when he had been moved. It was beyond any of them how he had managed to stay conscious as long as he had.

"Aye, Rodney. We're doing everything we can." Beckett replied in a compassionate voice. But a quiver in his lips told the team that Beckett was just as affected by this as they were. However, the doctor had to pull it together if he wanted to save the pilot's life.

The distant voice of the Jumper's pilot responding to Atlantis' hail as they activated the Stargate told the team that they were almost home.

"Is he going to die?" Ronon asked the question the others dared not voice. It was like saying it would make it a reality. One they just couldn't face. Not now. Not ever.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Beckett replied fiercely, determination firing in his eyes.

--//--

They waited and waited.

The surgery took all night.

Beckett exited in the early morning hours, exhaustion threatening to do him in. He scrubbed his head, taking in a deep breath before meeting the eyes of the team gathered with Elizabeth. His eyes were expressionless as he struggled with emotions swirling within. He gestured for them all to sit.

The silence was deafening.

"Carson?" Elizabeth prompted, her heart in her throat.

He took a moment to gather himself.

"He's critical." He sighed.

The others blew out a breath they didn't realize they had been collectively holding. At least the colonel was still alive.

"One of the bullets is still lodged between the twelfth thoracicvertebra and the first lumbar vertebra and we're going to have to go back in to remove it. We won't know until then whether there will be permanent damage to his spinal cord. The other three bullets were removed successfully. We had to remove his left kidney, however, as the damage was too extensive. Another bullet just nicked the lower lobe of his left lung and the third came dangerously close to his heart. _That_ one was a bugger to remove as it seemed to want to travel a bit before we could get a good hold of it. He was quite a mess and it doesn't help any that we're still struggling to get his body temperature back to where it should be."

Carson sighed again, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Elizabeth placed a hand on his shoulder. There were tears in her eyes that she didn't even bother to hide.

"Can we…." Rodney began to ask, but his voice trailed off. He just didn't want to get his hopes up.

"Aye, Rodney, you can see him but I want you all to keep to the side. There's a lot of equipment and the nurses are settling him in. Don't stay long…we need to keep the area clear in case…." Beckett didn't bother finishing, as he just didn't want to admit how critical the colonel really was.

They entered into the critical care section of the infirmary. Everything about the situation was wrong: the smell, the feel, the sight before them…none of this was supposed to have happened. Yet it had.

No one spoke. A life was still hanging by but a frayed thread. Even the tension in the air seemed threatening enough to sever that thread.

There was little they could see of him. Thermal blankets were wrapped snug around his body. Tubes and wires ran from and to his body. The unsettling clicks and hisses from a ventilator accompanied the slow beat of the heart monitor. His face was pale, from the little they could see of it. His chest barely rose up and down, painfully slow.

"He's up to 96.3 degrees now, Doctor Beckett." A nurse disrupted the silent vigil. Beckett nodded his approval.

There was nothing that could be said. No one wanted to voice what all were thinking: he already looked dead. After a minute, Beckett silently urged them out.

They reconvened in the waiting area. Elizabeth crossed her arms, hugging her body as she locked eyes with Carson.

"What are his chances?"

Rodney couldn't take it anymore. Anger that had been building since the frustration of being unable to reach the colonel because of the storm, reached its pinnacle.

"What's the point? He either lives or dies, Elizabeth. There's no in between. You can't put a percentage on the colonel's life. By all physical means, he should already be dead." His face grew rapidly redder as he spat out the words.

There wasn't much hope in the room to begin with. So when Rodney spoke what they had all feared, there came no immediate response.

"Hope. There's always hope. It's what keeps us _as well as _him fighting to the very end. Let's not give up on that, shall we? You know the colonel wouldn't." Beckett stared Rodney down. The scientist relented just as quickly as he had lashed out.

"Sorry. I'm just…sorry." Rodney mustered, his head hanging low.

By now, the team would usually be cracking jokes about how Sheppard would devise an escape plan once he got better. There was no light-hearted banter this time: nothing to make the situation any easier to handle. It had been too close this time. And Sheppard wasn't even out of the woods yet. Even if the colonel survived the night and his second surgery, his chances of becoming paralyzed were great.

"Look, let's all just get some rest. We'll be of no use to the colonel if we're spent." Beckett suggested.

"Easier said than done." Elizabeth surmised.

The team turned as one and headed out of the infirmary without so much as a single objection. It was a testament to the reality that there really wasn't much they could do now. They couldn't sit with the colonel and they couldn't sit around waiting for the inevitable. They needed to release their frustrations into what they did best. Rodney returned to his lab, Elizabeth to her office, Ronon to the gym, and Teyla to her room to meditate.

Beckett remained behind in their wake, the sadness of the situation weighing heavy on his heart. He turned finally, to check once more on the colonel before heading to his own office, to review the trajectory of the final bullet, still lodged in the colonel's spine. It was going to be a long track ahead.

--//--

Like successive claps of thunder, the ring of gunfire pounded against the mighty rocky peaks around him. Slowly, as if time had slid to a halt, his legs failed to carry his weight and he tipped backwards. He hit the ice in a painful exhale, the shocking blow reverberating throughout his body.

Then all was still.

He realized he had suddenly forgotten to breathe. As he tentatively inhaled the chilled air, his vision narrowed to the ice underneath his outstretched arm, fingers curled upward in a lazy offering to the sky. There was a rapid red stain gathering beneath it, tainting the ice. It did not register just then that it was his blood. He only noted that it was rather captivating, the smooth edges filling the minute scratches and dips in the flawed surface of the frozen lake beneath him. His labored breaths were loud in his ears, so loud it was the only thing he could hear.

He blinked. Then blinked again. He had been shot.

From the echoing sound of gunfire that still pounded in the distance of the roaring rush of blood in his ears, he had probably been hit more than once. Would explain why his body no longer seemed to want to respond to his commands for it to get up.

He blinked heavily, exhaling a visible puff of air. He couldn't move.

John Sheppard became convinced that death had finally won the game. It was only a matter of time before it claimed its prize.

Awareness faded quickly.

And then he woke up. The fading echo of gunfire left his ears yet still his heart raced.

He knew instantly that he was back on Atlantis. There was no other infirmary like it on Earth. Which meant he wasn't hallucinating or dead. Relief that normally consoled him was absent: he knew the aftermath of his ordeal would not leave him unscathed. The bullets had struck him the back. His chances of walking away from this one were as slim as McKay admitting he didn't know everything.

The numbness he felt now was different than before. It pulled at him, weighted him down against a feather-light surface that offered little comfort against it. And he was warm. Warmer than he could have ever imagined feeling again. His throat was achingly dry, his nose picking up the usual infirmary smells, and his ears catching faint squeaks of gurney wheels and sneakers upon a polished floor.

He was home.

His eyelids were heavy and slow in revealing the world around him. There was little to be seen as he laid flat on his back. A darkened infirmary welcomed him to awareness. Silence reigned. No ventilator yet intrusive tubes remained. He blinked a few times, chasing off the last vestiges of the sleep that had held him its grasp for so long.

A chill remained in the air, but this time it was not physical. Something wasn't right. Perhaps it would never be so again and he knew instantly why. He was paralyzed. He couldn't move anything below his waist…it was like a void…there simply wasn't anything there. He stubbornly commanded everything from muscle to tendon to bone to move. Nothing, not even a twitch. The only thing accomplished was initiating a spiking pain between his eyes.

Panic threatened to swallow him whole.

His heart rate quickened, perspiration beaded on his flush forehead.

Hurried footsteps headed his direction and he swallowed hard, hoping to get his throat working to ask one of the hardest questions he ever had to ask. _Will I ever walk again?_

Carson's exhausted face came into view, concern embedded deep in those caring blue eyes. The man was stretched thin and John knew he was the cause of it. He cracked his dry lips apart to speak but Carson only hushed him, glancing briefly at the monitors before bringing out the dreaded penlight. Several agonizing moments later, and vitals checked, Carson regained eye contact.

"Don't try to talk at the moment, Colonel. You've been on the ventilator up to an hour ago, when you first showed signs of waking. I suppose you'll be wanting to know what kinda mess you've managed to get yourself into this time." Carson replied in a soothing voice. He paused momentarily, grabbing a cup from somewhere nearby and sliding a heavenly ice chip between his cracked lips. "The good news is you're not paralyzed…if you have any numbness at all, it's due to swelling on your spine after the surgery we had to perform to remove the final bullet. The other three left quite a mess themselves, but it was the fourth we were most worried about. I won't lie to you: the surgery was challenging and you will be feeling the effects of it for quite some time. Once we get you healthy, you'll be doing physical therapy for a couple o' months to regain your strength. This whole ordeal was tough, colonel, but I know you'll recover in no time. You've proved it time again with that stubborn head of yours. We didn't give up on you, colonel. Never did and never will."

By the end of that long-winded speech, Sheppard found his eyelids drooping, the weight of sleep pushing down on him. A weak smile formed on his lips.

"Thank you." He whispered.

Peaceful sleep claimed him. His mind returned to a dark night sky sparkled with lights and dreams of flying amongst them once again.

--fin (for real)--

_There you go, hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did in writing it! I didn't want to drag things out too much: sometimes saying things in less words is more powerful. Also, the title of this fic came from Kate Havenik's beautiful song of the same name. _

_OT A/N: For those of you who may be interested in a writing challenge, check out the Whump From a Hat Challenge at my LJ (link in bio - won't post here since ffnet won't seem to let me...)_

_Also, for those of you sticking with my other fic, Bitter, I just want you to know I haven't abandoned it. I have roughly six or seven chapters left to fill in bits and pieces, etc. Then I'm going to post each installment day by day as a treat to finish it up. :D   
__  
__  
_


End file.
